


Lyrebird

by madamteatime



Category: DBSK|Tohoshinki|TVXQ
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 04:24:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamteatime/pseuds/madamteatime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An accident leaves Yunho unable to speak</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lyrebird

The last thing Changmin remembers is a flash of light and then the crushing impact of the other car slamming into theirs.  
  
His last thought is a panicked  _Yunho_  before everything goes black.  
  
\- - -  
  
He wakes up in the hospital with a splitting headache and no knowledge of how much time has passed. Bandages wrap around his head and his left arm is in a cast, but everything considered Changmin is just glad to be alive. He sits up with a groan and glances to his side.  
  
One bed over, Yunho is lying still under pristine white sheets. Changmin feels his stomach drop for one terrifying second before he registers the steady beep of a heart monitor and sees the slow rise and fall of Yunho’s chest. He clambers out of bed and stumbles to Yunho’s side and stares down at him with knots twisting in his chest.  
  
“Hyung,” Changmin croaks. “Wake up.”  
  
Yunho opens his eyes and smiles up at him. Changmin sags with relief.  
  
“Oh thank god,” he whispers. “You’re okay, right?”  
  
Yunho nods. He opens his mouth to say something, but no sound comes out. He frowns, confused, and tries again. Changmin stares.  
  
“What’s wrong? What is it?”  
  
Worry squirms in through his relief, but before they can do much else nurses come into the room and scold Changmin for being out of bed. They tuck him back in and fuss over both of them, checking their stats and taking their temperatures, all while chattering about what a miracle it was that they survived the accident. The result of a freak weather occurrence – lightning had struck a tree at the side of the road, causing a car in the oncoming lane to swerve into theirs. They’ve been out for a couple of days, and the outpouring of grief from their family, friends and fans has forced the hospital to ban the delivery of any more bouquets. Flowers cover every free surface in the room, and Changmin would be touched if he wasn’t still feeling so disoriented.  
  
After a few minutes a doctor enters. He checks Changmin’s chart and nods a lot and tells him he appears to be recovering well. The doctor assures him he should be able to leave the hospital soon before moving on to Yunho’s bed. Here he hesitates, checking over his chart twice before taking a seat on the edge of Yunho’s bed.  
  
“Yunho-sshi, I’m afraid I have some bad news. . .” the doctor says quietly. Changmin cranes his neck around the nurse hooking him up with a fresh bag of IV.  
  
“Speak up, I can’t hear what you’re saying,” he calls. The doctor turns to him with a frown.  
  
“I wanted to give this news in private – ” he starts, but Yunho makes a gesture that somehow manages to convey both that it’s fine and that he should continue. The doctor sighs and gets to his feet.  
  
“The trauma you sustained during the accident caused an inflammation in the larynx,” he says. “I’m afraid, Yunho-sshi, that you have vocal cord paralysis.”  
  
Yunho stares at him, uncomprehending. His mouth opens and closes in mute shock. Pain screeches through Changmin’s head.  
  
“You mean. . .he’ll never speak again?” he croaks. The doctor hesitates.  
  
“There’s a chance it may only be temporary, but I would encourage you not to get your hopes up. As it currently stands – yes, Yunho-sshi will never speak again.”  
  
Then he bows his head in sympathy and leaves.  
  
\- - -  
  
Changmin lies awake at night and stares up at the ceiling. The steady beep of their heart monitors and the sounds of nurses and doctors out in the hallway keep him up. Whirling, tense thoughts rob him of sleep.  
  
He sees movement from the bed beside him and turns his head. Yunho is curled up on his side, facing away from him. A dry, gasping sound draws Changmin out of bed and he shuffles over to Yunho’s side.  
  
Yunho is crying into his pillow, teeth gritted and face scrunched up. He opens his eyes as Changmin comes to hover over him and Changmin feels his heart break at the pain he sees there. Silently, he urges Yunho to make room and climbs into bed with him. Yunho wipes his face and touches Changmin’s broken arm, brow furrowed with concern. Changmin shrugs.  
  
“It’s fine. They said it was a clean break so it should heal okay.”  
  
Yunho nods. His hands sweep over Changmin’s chest and shoulders, carefully checking him for other injuries. They’re both sporting still-healing cuts and bruises, but nothing else too major. Changmin closes his eyes and lets him, until Yunho is satisfied that he’s fine. He tugs the blanket up to cover them and curls up with his head on Changmin’s shoulder, so cat-like it makes a smile flicker across Changmin’s lips. He buries his nose in Yunho’s hair and slides his good arm around his waist and tugs him closer.  
  
“You don’t have to cry,” he murmurs. “We’ll get through this.”  
  
Yunho raises his head and meets his eye, his expression a magnificent mixture of hopeful and skeptical. Changmin sighs.  
  
“Honestly, right now I’m just glad we’re alive.”  
  
Yunho smiles slightly and buries his face in Changmin’s neck. Changmin feels him nod against his shoulder.  
  
He drifts off to the warm, comfortable weight of Yunho beside him, his breathing deep and even and silent.  
  
\- - -  
  
They’re released from hospital the next day.  
  
The first thing Yunho does when he gets home is make a list of things he can no longer do. It’s what Yunho is best at – identifying a problem in order to devise a solution for it. Changmin finds the document open on his iPad and scrolls through words like  _talk_ ,  _laugh_  and  _make phone calls_.  
  
At the top of the list is the word  _sing_ , bolded and underlined. Changmin feels his throat close up. People tended to underestimate how much Yunho loved singing – sure he could dance like his soul was on fire, but those moments when his voice filled a hall with song, when he hit a perfect note or nailed a new tune; those were what he lived for.  
  
A familiar hand reaches across his field of vision and plucks the iPad out of his grip. Changmin blinks rapidly and raises his head to meet Yunho’s gaze.  
  
 _I registered for sign language classes,_  Yunho types. The words blur as Changmin stares at them.  
  
“Uh. . .” he manages. Yunho hesitates.  
  
 _Want to take them with me?_  
  
Changmin nods immediately. He knows why Yunho’s asking – there’s no point in him learning sign language if nobody understands what he’s signing. Yunho smiles and sits down beside him and shows him the academy he registered with.  
  
Things are fine when it’s just the two of them; they’ve never really needed to talk much in order to convey things to each other. Changmin can infer just as much from Yunho’s expressions and body language as he can from his words. But it’s different when they’re around other people and he finds himself needing to become Yunho’s voice. Five years ago the prospect of having to do all the talking would have terrified him, but now necessity gives him confidence. They have press conferences and interviews and shows to attend. Everyone everywhere seems to want to talk to them, to ask them what happened and what they’re going to do now and Changmin finds himself repeating the same answers over and over.  _We don’t know, we’re not sure yet, we haven’t really discussed it, we’re just focusing on a full recovery right now._  A few months in he gets his cast removed and it sort of feels like things are getting back to normal; except nothing will ever be normal again.  
  
At first Yunho tries using the text-to-speech app on his iPad so people don’t constantly have to read whatever he wants to say, but Changmin hates the robotic voice of the program and tells him not to use it around him. He’d much rather read Yunho’s words in his voice, even if it’s only in his head. They research all sorts of vocal cord surgeries, but the doctor tells them any procedure would be unsafe for at least six months, or until the inflammation goes down and they can determine whether the paralysis is permanent or not. In the meantime he urges Yunho to try to adapt to his disability as best he can.  
  
Changmin doesn’t know if it’s a testament to Yunho’s strength of will or if he’s harbouring the hope that it’s only temporary, but he adjusts to being mute surprisingly quickly. His lone moment of weakness that night in the hospital is the only indication that he’s upset about what’s happened. His smile is just as bright as ever, his laughter – though silent – just as expressive, and he’s got even more game than before; apparently girls really dig the whole wounded, vulnerable shtick.  
  
One time, Changmin finds a tall blonde bombshell flirting with him backstage before an interview. Yunho is managing to flirt right back even without being able to talk, smiling and making expressive gestures that make her giggle.  
  
Changmin scowls.  
  
 _Swarms of bees,_  he thinks, and stalks over to them. The girl is exactly Yunho’s type, gorgeous and wide-eyed and leggy. He stands behind her and makes faces until, distracted, Yunho looks over at him and frowns.  
  
“He wants you to leave,” Changmin deadpans. The girl turns to him in surprise.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Can’t you tell from his face?” Changmin drawls. Yunho’s frown deepens. He starts to shake his head but Changmin steps on his foot and his expression becomes pained instead. The girl backs away.  
  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize – ”  
  
“It’s okay. You can go now,” Changmin says pointedly. She leaves quickly and Changmin grins in satisfaction until Yunho punches his shoulder. He turns to find the other man scowling at him and making furious gestures in the direction of his retreating conquest, a clear  _what the fuck!_  etched on his features.  
  
“Whatever, you were asking for it,” Changmin says. Yunho grabs his iPad, angrily types out two words and thrusts it in his face.  
  
 _YOU’RE FIRED._  
  
Pissed, Changmin shoves him.  
  
“Oh yeah? What are you going to do, fire me from your life? You’d have to be giving me something in return in order to fire me in the first place. I get nothing out of this arrangement. You think it’s fun translating your broken sign language and vague gestures and every expression that crosses your face? You think I enjoy knowing every time you want to say something or make random noises or sing some made up nonsense song? Or when you’re looking at me like you are right now, like ‘but Changminnie, how can you possibly know when I want to sing?’ Of course I know, stupid. I know everything about you. So if I don't like it when some blonde stick is hitting on you you’re just going to have to deal with it, because there’s nobody who can be your voice but me.”  
  
Changmin pauses, breathing hard. Yunho’s gone through about ten different expressions during his rant, but the one he settles on now is soft and fond and makes Changmin regret some of the things he just said.  
  
 _There’s nobody else I’d trust to be my voice,_  Yunho types. Changmin looks away and scrubs a hand through his hair, a blush creeping up his face.  
  
It intensifies when Yunho smiles and hugs him and mouths  _thank you_  into his neck.  
  
\- - -  
  
Changmin makes a list of his own.  
  
He writes down all the things Yunho can still do with his mouth, like eat and drink and smile and pout. Yunho finds the paper on his desk and brings it to Changmin’s room, an amused look on his face.  
  
“I didn’t like your list,” Changmin says. Yunho steps closer, gets right up in his personal space. His finger trails down to the bottom of the list and settles beside  _kiss_.  
  
Changmin squirms.  
  
“Well it’s true,” he mumbles. Yunho’s smile widens into a grin. He leans over and plants a sloppy, wet kiss on Changmin’s cheek. Changmin pretends to gag and scrubs at the spot.  
  
“Gross,” he grumbles. Yunho’s shoulders shake with laughter.  
  
 _On the lips then?_  he signs, eyes alight with pure mischief.  
  
Changmin goes still. He shoots Yunho a sideways glance from under his eyelashes. There’s something indefinable on Yunho’s face, something deeper behind the playful question.  
  
 _Don’t be stupid,_  Changmin signs hastily, and flees the room.  
  
He’s making dinner a few days later when he feels a presence behind him. Silence has given Yunho a grace he would normally only have while dancing, as though being able to talk was somehow linked to his everyday clumsiness. Whereas before Changmin could hear him coming a mile off these days Yunho can slip up beside him completely unnoticed, like some sort of giant panther. It’s unnerving – after all these years he’s not used to Yunho surprising him.  
  
He almost jumps out of his skin when Yunho reaches down and carefully takes the ladle from him.  
  
“Jesus – warn me or something,” Changmin gasps. Yunho smiles, turns the stove off and takes Changmin’s hand. He leads him out of the kitchen and down the hallway towards their home studio.  
  
“What’s happening?” Changmin asks, but he doesn’t resist as Yunho steers him into the room and points towards his computer. Lines of composition scrawl across the screen and Changmin leans down to examine the song.  
  
“Did you write this?” he asks. Yunho nods. He’s being unusually cagey, as though he’s unsure of what reaction he’ll get. He points at Changmin, then at the song.  
  
“You wrote this for me?”  
  
Another nod. Changmin scans the composition and feels his heart sink.  
  
“Hyung. This is a duet,” he says quietly. Yunho hesitates, then grabs his iPad and starts typing.  
  
 _We can’t go on like this forever. You need to think of your future, even if it’s without me. People will be lining up to sing with you, it’s the perfect stepping stone to a solo career._  
  
Changmin straightens up, eyes cold with rage.  
  
“Are you suggesting I  _replace_  you?” he asks, voice dangerous. Yunho looks down and gives the tiniest of nods.  
  
“Fuck you Yunho,” Changmin snarls. “Fuck. You.”  
  
Yunho’s head snaps up. He holds his hands up in protest but Changmin isn’t listening – he shoves past him and storms out of the room.  
  
The front door slams behind him and Yunho sinks into his chair with a sigh.  
  
\- - -  
  
Depressed and angry, Changmin finds himself at Kyuhyun’s place, but he doesn’t feel like talking about what happened so Kyuhyun’s solution is to help him drink his sorrows away.  
  
He gets home completely smashed and reeking of alcohol. He stumbles inside and down the hallway before veering right towards Yunho’s room.  
  
Yunho is already in bed, sound asleep by all appearances. Changmin ignores this and climbs on top of him, causing Yunho to jerk awake and blink up at him in surprise.  
  
“Sorry,” Changmin slurs. “I’m sorry. D’int – I d’int mean that. Unfuck you.”  
  
Yunho sighs and sits up. He reaches for his iPad and opens up a new document.  
  
 _You smell like a brewery._  
  
It takes him a couple of tries to read what it says but when he does Changmin laughs. “Went to Kyu’s. We drank. . .everything.”  
  
Yunho starts to type something else but Changmin waves him off.  
  
“Stop, stop. Can’t – can’t focus for shit right now. Just listen.”  
  
Yunho puts the object aside and blinks at him obediently. Changmin points a wavering finger at him.  
  
“You – nobody can replace you. Okay? Nobody. I can’t do it with anyone but you. So don’t ever  _ever_  talk about replacing yourself again. I don’t want to hear it. I’ll go the distance with you or not at all. And that’s final.”  
  
 _I just want to take care of you,_  Yunho signs helplessly.  
  
“I’m fine. I mean, you do. You just being there – it’s enough. Write me a solo song if you want. But I don’t want to hear this bullshit about making a unit with other people. That’s not going to happen. Okay?”  
  
Yunho smiles slightly.  _Okay,_  he nods.  
  
“Okay,” Changmin lurches forward and Yunho catches him against his chest. Changmin sighs and brushes a hand across his throat.  
  
“God, your voice,” he groans suddenly. “I miss your beautiful voice. I miss hearing you wake me up in the morning. I miss your stupid, obnoxious laugh when you’re embarrassed.”  
  
Yunho has gone very still under him but Changmin doesn’t care. He sits up and leans over him, head bowed and hair falling into his eyes.  
  
“I miss hearing you sing. I miss hearing you call my name, all the dumb nicknames only you could come up with.”  
  
His breath hitches. He leans closer, voice dropping to a whisper.  
  
“I miss those cute little sounds you’d make when you were surprised, or happy, or excited. It’s like you’re blurred around the edges – I can see you but I can’t hear you. What sound does a falling star make? If I can’t hear you do you still exist?”  
  
Changmin sways closer, until their lips are inches apart. His vision swims, and he’s about to close the gap when Yunho’s hand covers his mouth. Surprised, Changmin sits back and blinks at him.  
  
 _Not like this,_  Yunho signs, and Changmin is just coherent enough to understand that it’s not a rejection, not exactly. He groans and flops down on the bed and is asleep within seconds.  
  
\- - -  
  
Changmin wakes, and immediately wishes he hadn't.  
  
“Fuck. . .” he groans, clutching his head. He is going to kill Kyuhyun, just as soon as he figures out which way is up.  
  
A hand holding two aspirins appears in his field of vision. Changmin rolls over and sees Yunho kneeling on the bed. He’s holding a glass of water in his other hand.  
  
Changmin takes the painkillers with a groan of thanks and burrows back into bed. The sheets smell like Yunho and he closes his eyes and breathes him in. Long fingers card through his hair and slowly massage his skull and Changmin sighs in gratitude.  
  
“Oh – hyung,” he moans. “Feels good.”  
  
The fingers falter for a second before resuming their task. Yunho leans over him, warm and firm. He must be freshly showered, because he smells like aftershave and bodywash. Heat pools in Changmin’s stomach and he arches into him, eyes closed and lips parted in bliss as Yunho massages his hangover away.  
  
He’s asleep again in minutes.  
  
When Changmin wakes a second time he’s alone in bed and it’s mid-afternoon. He drags himself upright and into the shower to wash the remnants of last night off. Clean, fresh and smelling like toothpaste he wanders into the kitchen.  
  
Yunho is standing at the stove wearing a pink apron he unearthed from god knows where and stirring a pot of something that smells heavenly. Overcome with a surge of fondness, Changmin sneaks up behind him and slides his arms around Yunho’s waist. Yunho jumps, then relaxes back into his embrace.  
  
“Nice apron,” Changmin nuzzles into his neck. “Very manly.”  
  
Yunho bites his lip around a grin and turns to face him.  
  
 _Feeling better?_  he signs. Changmin nods. His gaze slides over Yunho, hot and bold and unashamed in his desire. Yunho swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and Changmin follows the action hungrily.  
  
Changmin steps closer, until they’re pressed up against each other and he can feel Yunho’s heart beating rapidly against his chest. He reaches around and turns the stove off, then takes the spoon out of Yunho’s hand and sets it aside.  
  
“You owe me a kiss,” Changmin says, voice low. His hands settle on Yunho’s hips. “I know why you stopped me last night, and it wasn’t because you didn’t want it.”  
  
Yunho’s eyes flutter. His hands rise slowly and cup Changmin’s face, thumbs stroking over high cheekbones. Changmin holds his breath, eyes hooded and heart pounding until Yunho closes the gap between them and kisses him.  
  
His lips are soft and plush, and they move over Changmin’s like they were made for him. Changmin gasps and kisses back, presses harder against him as heat rises to his cheeks and makes him dizzy. He clutches at Yunho, mouth parting, a groan lodged in his throat as Yunho’s tongue flicks out to taste him. His hands shift into Changmin’s hair and he tilts his head so he can have him at the angle he wants and Changmin lets him, content to be kissed.  
  
They stumble back and Yunho presses him into the counter, kissing him with increased urgency. Changmin arches and claws at him, breathless and disoriented when Yunho pulls away abruptly and spins him. He braces himself on the counter and groans as Yunho grinds into him from behind, his breathing harsh and heavy.  
  
“Yes,” Changmin breathes. “Oh god yes – ”  
  
Yunho sinks his teeth into his neck and he cries out, nails scrabbling across the marble top. They fumble at each other, tugging and yanking until clothes litter the kitchen tiles.  
  
Later, when Changmin surfaces from his post-orgasm lethargy long enough to remember that he’s starving, he lets Yunho feed him deokbokki and pajun until he’s so full and sated he never wants to move again, and then Yunho drags him into the bedroom and jumps him all over again. This time they go slow, taking time to map each other’s bodies and find (and exploit) sensitive spots. Changmin lets go with all the sounds he’d be too embarrassed to make with anyone else and doesn’t care that he can’t hear Yunho; he’s loud enough for both of them.  
  
He wakes in the middle of the night to an empty bed. Exhausted and sore, Changmin wraps a blanket around himself and goes looking for Yunho. The house is freezing, and he almost yelps as his feet hit the cold floor.  
  
He finds Yunho sitting on the windowseat in the study. Changmin yawns and shuffles over to him and Yunho pulls him into his lap, lips against his temple.  
  
“Come to bed,” Changmin mumbles. Yunho shakes his head and points out the window.  
  
Powdery flakes are starting to drift down to cover the world outside. Childish glee lights Yunho’s face. Changmin had forgotten that Yunho has an uncanny ability to predict when the first snow of the season is going to be, and he marvels at the fact that even at his age and after all he’s seen and been through something as simple as watching the snowfall can bring Yunho such pure delight. He presses his nose against Yunho’s cheek and smiles.  
  
“I love you,” Changmin whispers. “And I don’t give a fuck if you never speak again, because I don’t need to hear your voice to know that I love you. Talking is thoughtless and cheap anyway.”  
  
Yunho blinks, then smiles and turns his head to kiss him.  
  
 _I love you too_  he signs.  _Always have, always will._  
  
\- - -  
  
Six months after their accident their doctor finally reaches a verdict on Yunho’s condition: the inflammation is gone and his voice still isn’t back, which means the paralysis must be permanent. Yunho tries not to show it, but Changmin knows the news crushes him. In the end the truth was that they had both been clinging to the hope that it was only temporary and that this whole thing had just been an unfortunate (though surprisingly rewarding) hiccup in their journey.  
  
For only the second time since he lost his voice Yunho cries, silently and late at night, scrunched into himself and trying to hide it. But Changmin knows, and he draws Yunho into his arms and holds him until he cries himself to sleep.  
  
Changmin himself sleeps fitfully for weeks, wracked with worry for Yunho, for himself, for their future and their careers. He hates the thought of standing on stage without Yunho; it’s a cold, lonely prospect as far as he’s concerned. Eventually fed up with his constant tossing and turning, Yunho takes it upon himself to sex Changmin into a coma every night until he’s too tired to stay awake, let alone think.  
  
They’re thus preoccupied one night when it happens.  
  
“Yunho,” Changmin moans. “Oh god, please – faster – ”  
  
He’s on his hands and knees, trembling and writhing as Yunho thrusts into him. His fingers curl in the bedsheets and Yunho stretches out over him, biting and sucking at the base of his neck until Changmin is an incoherent mess. Orgasm coils tight in the base of his gut and Changmin squeezes his eyes shut, lips parted in a cry as he arches and comes.  
  
“Ah – ”  
  
The sound is so small he almost misses it. Hazy and shaken apart, Changmin rolls over and spreads his legs. Yunho sinks back into him, but there’s a hesitance in his movements, some wary suspicion in the depths of his eyes.  
  
“Was that – ?” Changmin pants.  
  
Yunho gives a tight nod and presses his lips together. Changmin’s eyes widen, but a moment later he’s distracted as Yunho suddenly throws his head back, shudders and fills him. He slumps across Changmin and they pant against each other until Changmin sinks a hand in Yunho’s hair and draws his face up so he can kiss him. He leaves Yunho’s mouth red and swollen and trails his lips down to his neck, pressing feverish, open-mouthed kisses against his throat. Yunho’s fingers tighten, nails digging into Changmin’s chest.  
  
“Our doctor is a fucking idiot,” he growls, flipping them to pin Yunho under him. Yunho’s shoulders quiver with laughter.  
  
 _Most people aren’t aware of the miracle healing powers of gay sex,_  he signs, illustrating ‘gay sex’ with such a crude gesture it makes Changmin gape at him.  
  
“I’m sure our sign language instructor didn’t teach you that one,” he says, and swallows Yunho’s grin.  
  
But despite their giddiness that tiny, one-off sound is the only thing Yunho ever vocalizes. He tries again and again to repeat it but nothing comes out, until he gives in to frustration and trashes his room, loudly and angrily. Later, Changmin cleans it up in silence and finds Yunho curled up on the couch, eyes closed as he rubs his throat. He sighs and drops his hand when Changmin sits beside him.  
  
 _I’m sorry,_  he signs.  _I shouldn’t have lost my temper._  
  
“It’s okay to get angry,” Changmin says. “You don’t have to be so brave all the time. Not around me.”  
  
Yunho gives him a wry look.  
  
 _I know. It’s just so frustrating. Getting my hopes up for nothing. Getting your hopes up and then disappointing you. I hate disappointing you._  
  
Changmin takes Yunho’s face in his hands and fixes him with a serious look. “You have never disappointed me. Ever.”  
  
Yunho smiles and presses their foreheads together in quiet gratitude.  
  
One night Yunho wakes up gasping and clawing at his throat, his mouth working around silent sounds. His thrashing inevitably wakes Changmin, who sits up groggily.  
  
“What is it? What’s happening?” he mumbles, struggling around cobwebs of sleep. Yunho makes a sound like he’s choking and Changmin jolts into action. He turns the light on and brings him a glass of water that Yunho desperately gulps down before gasping for air.  
  
“Okay. Okay, breathe. Just breathe,” Changmin says, trying not to panic. Yunho’s eyes plead with him, but for what he has no damn clue. “Does it hurt?” Yunho shakes his head. “Should I call someone? The doctor? A friend? My mom? Your mom? Help me out here hyung I have no fucking idea what to do!”  
  
But Yunho just shakes his head to each question and takes quick, shuddering breathes until eventually his heart rate evens out and he can breathe normally again. He stares at Changmin for a minute and licks his lips.  
  
 _I think I just had a panic attack,_  he signs.  
  
Changmin feels like he’s two seconds away from having a panic attack of his own. He tilts forward and buries his face in Yunho’s chest.  
  
“Fuck, that was terrifying,” he groans. Yunho nods in agreement and wraps his arms around him, and they fall asleep clinging to each other.  
  
\- - -  
  
In the end when it finally happens it is, like so many important events, abrupt and anticlimactic.  
  
“Changmin.”  
  
He’s dreaming. They’re in a mansion they once did a photoshoot in in Japan, a palace-like house with enough rooms to get lost in. He can hear Yunho calling from the other room, but every room he goes into is empty.  
  
“Changmin-ah.”  
  
Changmin runs down a hallway full of mirrors, his own image reflected back at him again and again into infinity. There’s a door at the end of the hall and he wrenches it open, but there’s no Yunho on the other side. He needs to find Yunho – he needs to tell him something important –  
  
“Changmin, wake up.”  
  
Changmin thrashes in bed, then jerks upright. The dream shatters and falls away and he’s left blinking at Yunho. It’s the middle of the night and he fumbles for the lamp and turns it on.  
  
“Did you – ?” he starts, and then Yunho’s smiling at him, smiling so bright and joyful his eyes become tiny crescents. He takes Changmin’s face in his hands and strokes his cheeks.  
  
“Changmin,” he repeats.  
  
His voice is soft and hoarse with disuse, a mere shadow of what it once was, but it’s there. It’s there.  
  
Changmin makes a crazed sound and throws himself at Yunho and Yunho falls back with a laugh and it’s the most beautiful, perfect sound he’s ever heard.  
  
“Oh my god,” Changmin breathes, peppering Yunho’s face with kisses. “Oh god – how – when – ”  
  
“I woke up an hour ago and it was just. . .there.”  
  
“I will never, ever tell you to shut up again,” Changmin vows frantically. “You don’t talk too much. You talk just the right amount, in fact you don’t talk enough, you should talk every second of every day – ”  
  
Yunho laughs and kisses him, makes a pleased little purr and arches up into him and Changmin is lost.  
  
“Say it, say my name again,” he gasps.  
  
“Changmin,” Yunho sighs into his mouth. He rolls them and presses Changmin under him. “Changmin.” His hands fumble at Changmin’s clothes. “Changmin,” Yunho growls, grinding down against him, and Changmin knows he’ll never be able to hear Yunho call his name again without getting a boner.  
  
“Did you always – say it – that sexily?” Changmin gasps. Yunho grins against his throat.  
  
“No, but this is a good start.”  



End file.
